


If It Aint Broke

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-02-21
Updated: 1999-02-21
Packaged: 2018-11-11 04:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11140683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: This is for the tight spaces challenge, although they're not in any tight spaces they don't want to be in.





	If It Aint Broke

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

If It Aint Broke

## If It Aint Broke

by LynnZo

Author's disclaimer: Spoilers: COTW, Odds 

* * *

If It Aint Broke 

M/M. 

Rated R 

**SRK/BF**

Notes: This story is M/M - if you don't know what that means or can't handle the concept, hit that cute little "back" button right now. 

Spoilers: COTW, Odds This is for the tight spaces challenge, although they're not in any tight spaces they don't want to be in. The title is my response to all the "fixit" stories out there. 

Not that I have anything against Ray Vecchio; since this is all fantasy _anyway_ I think there's room for us all, though I'll admit I personally am not sold on the whole Kowalski/Turnbull concept. This is a work of amateur fiction, and not intended to blah blah blah. Don't sue me. It wouldn't be at all entertaining. 

Archive: DSRA OK, anywhere else, please ask first. 

If It Aint Broke by: 

"I can't go back, you know." 

Ray Kowalski's abrupt statement startled Fraser. He looked up from where he'd spent the last half hour poking their small campfire with a stick. Ray met his gaze and held it, this was serious. 

Ray continued, "Vecchio wants his life back. I have to disappear." 

Fraser pondered this for a minute, and Ray gave him time to think. Fraser had noticed that during the three weeks of their journey, Ray talked less and listened more. During the day, whether walking or on the dog sled, Ray at least needed all his air just to breathe. The cold winter winds were bothering him less as he adjusted, of course, but Fraser still watched him closely. When they rested around the campfire after dinner, as now, Ray was generally more than half-asleep already. Tonight he was obviously brooding. 

"Surely Lt. Welch will reassign you?" Fraser offered helpfully. 

Ray snorted, "Of course they'll reassign me, Fraser, that's not the point." 

Fraser blinked a little, uncomfortable with Ray's sudden intensity and unwavering gaze, "Well, what IS the point, Ray? You don't want to return to your old position?" 

Ray looked away at last, and when he spoke again he sounded tired. "I don't really have anything to return *to,* Fraser, I've worked undercover since I made Detective. I've been stationed all over Chicago. The list of places I can't show my face again grows every year." This last was said with just a hint of his usual rueful grin. 

"And now you want something different." 

Ray looked back at him suddenly, "Yeah." 

Fraser got the feeling he was missing something important. "Are you saying you don't want to continue with the police force, Ray?" 

Ray hunched his shoulders inside his sleeping bag. He'd taken to huddling down in it every evening to sit by the fire, then just toppling over when he was ready to sleep. It made him look about 12 years old, and although he wouldn't admit it (if there was anyone around to ask, which there wasn't, any more), Fraser liked to sit by the fire and watch Ray's face as he slept. On the nights when it was so cold they zipped their sleeping bags together for the extra warmth, he missed being able to watch the other man fall asleep. It was always so sudden, awake and talking one moment, sound asleep the next. 

Involved in his own thoughts, Fraser nearly missed Ray's next comment. 

"Maybe. I mean, no. I mean, being a cop is all I know how to do. I just... I dunno. What about you? What are you going to do?" 

Fraser squirmed, as much as was possible for a man dressed in several thermal layers and sitting on a log. He looked down at the fire, then away into the small grove of fir trees they'd found as a meager shelter for the night, "Well, Ray, I hadn't really thought about it. I've been so happy to be home..." 

There was a pause, Fraser noticed that Ray was still looking at him expectantly, and shifted again. Not for the first time, he wished his father was still around. 

"I don't know what you expect me to say, Ray. I never intended to stay in Chicago as long as I did. Now that I'm home, I don't want to leave." 

"So that leaves us both up a creek without a paddle." 

Fraser jumped right on that, "Well, Ray, there are no creeks here and..." then noticed Ray's grin and stopped mid-sentence. 

"You know, you _could_ stay in Canada." It slipped out before Fraser could edit it, and he sat very still for a moment, even the fire-poking stick held suspended in the air. He nearly held his breath, and somehow it became impossible to look up at Ray, just now. 

Ray shook his head, "I haven't seen any American Consulates around here, Fraser, know what I mean? And somehow I don't think the RCMP would want me running around up here on my own." 

Fraser thought about this for a long minute. Ray was right. With his rough-and-ready methods, he wouldn't exactly be welcomed by the RCMP. But then, he himself was not likely to be welcomed back, at least not back at his old posting. Memories of Gerard would scarcely have faded in just three years, and Fraser was tiring of waiting. Finally he looked up and took a deep breath. "Security guards." 

Ray blinked at him and made a show of looking around, "Security guards? Where?" 

"No, Ray," typically patient. "If it comes down to that, we could be security guards. There are towns. Towns have banks. Banks hire security guards. Perhaps it wouldn't be the most interesting of jobs, but it would be employment." 

Ray nodded his head. "Yeah. Security guards it is." He glanced up at Fraser briefly, then settled himself for sleep. "Thanks, Fraser." 

"For what, Ray?" Fraser watched as Ray settled himself on the ground for sleep. Ray didn't answer, just grinned up at him again. 

"'Night, partner." 

"Good night, Ray." 

* * *

A few days later, they'd stopped in a small town to spend the night inside for once, and to pick up a few supplies. Their small room in the town's one inn had twin beds, and a bathroom down the hall that was palatial compared to what they'd become used to on their journey. Even Fraser admitted to enjoying the luxury of a hot shower. 

Fraser awoke very early, well before dawn. He checked instinctively for Ray as soon as his eyes opened, and was surprised to find Ray's bed empty. 

"What is it, Ray?" Fraser lifted his head from the bed and peered over at him, standing by the window. It wasn't cold enough in the room to see your breath, but Ray was puffing on the window and drawing pictures on the glass with his finger. The darkness outside certainly prevented him from seeing out. 

Ray jumped. He looked over at Fraser, almost guiltily. "I can't sleep. Don't you ever have any trouble sleeping?" 

Fraser sat up quickly, blinking at the abrupt attack. "Well, Ray, I..." he got out before Ray was talking again. 

"Never mind, Fraser." I just... Go back to sleep." 

"Ray. Tell me." 

Ray glanced at him, then back at the patterns he had been drawing on the windowpane. With a furious sweep of his hand, he obliterated them and pushed off the wall to pace impatiently around the room. "I just can't sleep, you know? It's just so _quiet_ here. How can you sleep?" 

"Ray, I admit it's quieter inside a building than sleeping out in the open, but I would have thought you would be enjoying this for a change." 

Ray gave him a desperate glance and grabbed his pants from the dresser. I'll be back." He shoved his legs in the pants and pulled them up. There was a night light burning in the hall, Fraser watched as his partner was backlit for a moment as he stepped out the door. Ray looked... Well, he looked nearly frantic. 

Fraser stayed where he was. It seemed a long time until Ray returned, and when he did he closed the door gently behind him and stood still in the dark a minute, getting his bearings before he headed back towards the two twin beds. To Fraser's surprise he snatched the pillow off his bed to throw it on the floor. "Maybe it's the bed. _Too_ comfortable. Good night, Fraser." With this, he threw himself down on the floor between the twin beds, narrowly missing Fraser's feet, and sighed loudly. 

Fraser couldn't help a smile. He lay back down on his own bed and peered over the side at Ray. "Ray. You'll never be comfortable there." 

Ray turned his back, pointedly. "Go to sleep, Fraser." 

"You can sleep in _my_ bed, Ray. Perhaps it's less comfortable than yours," Fraser offered. 

Ray gave a strangled laugh and sat back up. He pulled up his knees and rested his forehead on them for a long moment. Finally he seemed to come to some sort of decision. "All right, Fraser. Coming up." 

Before Fraser could untangle his legs from the light sheet, Ray was next to him, pillow and all. With his bed next to the wall, this effectively trapped Fraser, which didn't seem to bother Ray one bit. He stuck his legs under the sheet and sighed deeply. "Thanks, Fraser." Low voice, serious voice, the one that always made Fraser feel like he'd said exactly the right thing for his changeable partner's mood. 

Fraser, hesitated a moment, then simply lay back down and closed his eyes. Even in the warmth of the room, he could feel the heat pouring off Ray's body, a scent that was uniquely Ray, nearly masked just now with the strong floral scent of the soap provided in the bathroom. The smell, the warmth, seemed to reach out and surround him with an almost physical touch on his skin. Fraser wanted nothing more than to shed his longjohns in the heat. He tried to shut this thought firmly out of his mind, but the longer he lay there not thinking about it, the more it appealed. Sleeping in the open, he took his partner's body heat for granted. The times they slept together, body heat was the reason, and he welcomed Ray's warmth as a sign that his partner was safe. Tonight, though... 

He turned his head, cautiously looking over at Ray. The other man's even breathing indicated he'd fallen asleep, and Fraser couldn't help smiling at how quickly he'd relaxed, as soon as... Fraser stared fixedly at the back of Ray's head. As soon as he'd laid down beside himself - Fraser lay there beside his sleeping partner and thought about that until morning. 

The next day was spent acquiring supplies, seeing after the dogs, and talking with the locals about the next place to look for Franklin. They planned to leave the following morning, and as they readied for bed Ray took the pillow off his own bed, and threw it onto Fraser's without a word. Fraser swallowed hard. "Ray." 

Ray interrupted him, something he hadn't done all day. "Banks," he said, pulling his sweater off over his head. "We didn't find any banks. If we're gonna be security guards, we gotta start looking for banks." 

He was grinning at Fraser, who stood staring at him blankly. By now, Ray was down to the t-shirt and boxers, and was shedding his socks. Fraser caught himself before Ray noticed the stare, and quickly got under the sheet. Ray joined him, still grinning, and turned away to settle himself in the small bed. "'Night, Fraser." 

"Good night, Ray." Fraser felt Ray's warmth envelop him, as it had the night before, and fervently hoped he would be able to sleep. Walking around town hadn't been enough exertion to tire him physically, and in a soft bed, in a warm room, well, his body was letting him know what it wanted...Ray. All day, at the back of his mind, he remembered, Ray had needed to be next to _him_ to sleep. Did this mean...? Fraser stopped himself firmly. Sleep. 

An hour later he was still awake, the scent of Ray's body now seemed to be inside his own skin, driving his arousal higher every minute. If he didn't get out of here, he was going to embarrass himself, or attack his partner, and neither was possible in Fraser's carefully ordered world. As softly as he could, he turned on his side away from Ray, and prepared to slide down to the end of the bed and out. 

Ray's eyes opened when Fraser turned. This wasn't normal. Fraser _never_ tossed and turned. Could the Mountie be having trouble sleeping? With a triumphant grin, he spooned himself against Fraser's back. "What?" he murmured drowsily. 

Fraser stilled suddenly. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

Ray, still half asleep, nuzzled his face against the back of Fraser's neck. Fraser didn't move a muscle. Ray came more awake, "Whassa matter, Fraser, now _you_ can't sleep?" 

Fraser could feel Ray's smile against the back of his neck. It didn't make his current predicament any easier, _harder_ was a better word for it. He swallowed quickly, best not to think of _that_ just now. He moved his head carefully, trying not to be too obvious about pulling away from Ray. "Well, um, yes, actually. Excuse me." 

Ray didn't move, if anything, the arm that now rested on Fraser's waist tightened fractionally. "Fraser? You sick?" He lifted his head and peered in the darkness, trying to see Fraser's face. 

For a fleeting moment, Fraser considered pretending to be sick, anything to get up and away from the solid warmth at his back. But his innate honesty had him answering before the impulse to lie could even be considered, "No. I never get sick." 

"Then stay put. Close your eyes and relax." Ray was smiling again, Fraser could hear it in his voice and, even more dangerously, could _feel_ it, as Ray snuggled up to the back of his neck again. Fraser tried hard not to squirm, not to pant, but the pressure in his groin was growing and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take this. "Ray..." he began, then froze. 

Slowly, so gently he might have missed it if he'd been wearing more than his red longjohns, Ray's hand was sliding down his waist. Ray drew a deep breath behind him and his breath tickled Fraser's neck. Fraser suppressed a shiver, just barely. Beyond his control, his neck arched just slightly and Ray took advantage to snuggle even closer against him. Caught between the hand now resting on his hip and the lips now nuzzling behind his left ear, Fraser moaned, "Ray..." 

That smile again, he could feel it. If Ray only knew what that smile did to his racing pulse! But then, pressed so closely behind him, Fraser began to suspect Ray _did_ know. A gasp now, "Ray?" 

Still no answer, but the hand on his hip firmed a bit, and began, still slowly, to slide forward. An inch, then two, and that voice in his ear was whispering softly, so softly that Fraser nearly missed it, "Is that a 'Ray, yes' or a 'Ray, no'? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, Fraser, if it's 'no' say it now." 

Fraser's head tossed from side to side, he didn't answer, couldn't answer, he was trying desperately to get enough oxygen to speak. He was hard, so hard, he could feel himself leaking, and Ray's hand was moving closer. He had to stop, stop now, but before he could get enough breath to speak, Ray was moving again, tucking his hips into Fraser's and then his hand reached its destination and Fraser was lost. His hips were thrusting helplessly into Ray's warm, knowing fingers. Even through the fabric of the longjohns the touch was hot, so hot, and then Ray was pushing against him from behind, his own erection tight against Fraser's ass, and his hand eased the buttons straining against the front of the longjohns and burrowed inside. Somehow Fraser's hand was locked tightly onto Ray's wrist, holding him in place, and with the first touch of those fingers on his bare flesh, Fraser was coming, coming, with a hoarse cry that echoed around the tiny room. 

He couldn't breathe. With the wall in front of him and Ray's body so tight against his back, Fraser couldn't seem to get enough air. He gasped for breath and moaned as Ray carefully released his cock from his tight grasp. Air, he needed air. 

Ray moved his hand back to Fraser's waist, eased his body back a bit and waited for Fraser to come back to himself. "Geez, Fraser. You were _that_ close?" he said, marveling. 

Fraser gave a little laugh, "Well, I *wasn't* Ray, until..." 

"Until I touched you?" 

Fraser could feel Ray's smile on the skin at the back of his neck. Could feel it, actually, all the way down to his toes. He groaned, a loud sound in the tiny room, and felt Ray's smile grow into a chuckle. "Well, that answers _that_ question, anyway," Ray whispered into his ear. Then, obviously deciding his Mountie had had enough of a rest, he slid his hand to the neckline of Fraser's red longjohns and began unbuttoning them. "I can't believe you let Lady Shoes wear your underwear. You have no idea what you put me through, Fraser." 

"Well, as I said, Ray, I have several pair..." Fraser was aware his response was weak, but with Ray's hands on his body he felt it was a little unfair to expect rational discourse. He put a hand up to stop Ray's progress but somehow his fingers were tangling with the other man's and then he was helping and the longjohns were open completely and Ray was taking advantage to sweep his hand the full length of Fraser's torso. Why wasn't there any air in this room? And why were they both wearing so many clothes? Clothes. Lady Shoes. 

Fraser thought about that for a second, then stopped Ray's movements by the simple expedient of rolling over on him, trapping Ray under his back. 

Ray oofed, although he did take advantage of the shift in position to sweep Fraser's longjohns down his arms, baring his shoulders. "Hey, Fraser, you're kinda heavy," he protested, half- laughing. 

Fraser shucked his arms out of the longjohns impatiently and turned over in the tiny bed, holding Ray beneath him. He reached over with his right hand and clicked on the bedside lamp. Ray lay obediently still, blinking a little in the sudden light. "What?" he demanded, looking up at Fraser curiously. 

"I want to see you," Fraser said, his mind clearly focused elsewhere. "I think she called the FBI, Ray." 

Ray glanced around the room, "Who? Here?" 

"No, Ray, Lady Shoes. I think she called the FBI that night. That's how they knew where to find us." 

Ray shrugged his shoulders as best he could, weighted down as he was with one considerably sized Mountie. "Yeah? I kinda figured they followed me that night, so what?" 

The movement of his slender shoulders caught Fraser's attention. Ray was still wearing too many clothes. He reached one hand suddenly to the bottom of Ray's t-shirt. Ray gasped, and flinched a little when Fraser grasped it firmly and tugged it up over his head. It was still tangled in Ray's arms when Fraser continued, "If they had followed you, why would they have waited until after the sketch artist had finished before they made their presence known? I think she called them when she went to, uh, bed in my office. They arrived a few minutes later." 

Ray freed his arms and glared up at Fraser, "Is there a *point,* here Fraser? Cause if not, I'd kinda like to get back to what we were doing before, you know?" 

Fraser looked down at him blankly. Ray sighed, and tried to focus. "Okay, Fraser, she called the FBI, but that doesn't make any sense. She had to know they'd take her back downtown, and no way was she ready to leave, you know? Not _after_ she'd gotten into your underwear." 

Fraser smiled suddenly, "Ray. Not everybody has the same fascination that you have with my underwear." 

Ray snorted, "You're telling me she *didn't* make a pass at you? 'Cause I don't believe it." 

Fraser frowned a bit, "Well, she _did_ give me a back massage. I hurt my back when I fell out of the window, you remember." 

"She gave you a back massage? When?!" Ray demanded, his attention caught at last. 

"Just before you arrived, Ray. I had to ask her to, uh, stop so I could answer the door." 

Ray pushed himself up in the bed and rested his back against the headboard. "You're telling me that you're alone in the building with Lady Shoes, she's in your underwear giving you a back massage, and you stop and *answer the door?!*" 

Fraser looked a little wounded, although whether it was from the accusatory tone in Ray's voice or the loss of his body contact, it was hard to tell. Still, he used this opportunity to pull his longjohns off the rest of the way, and to toss them on the floor next to Ray's discarded t- shirt. "Wouldn't you have answered the door?" 

Ray threw up both his hands, "Not a chance, Fraser, not a chance." 

"Not even if you knew it was me?" 

"Fraser! You didn't know it was me!" 

"I had an idea, Ray. You _were_ a little, well, concerned about my inviting her to stay at the Consulate." 

Ray thought about this for a minute as he took in the sight of Fraser's body, bared now and gleaming in the soft lamplight. Whatever. He was here now, and she was, well, wherever she was. He gasped when Fraser reached out a hand to caress his hip, still covered in the boxer shorts, which by now were almost painfully tight. 

"Would you answer the door now, Fraser?" 

Fraser seemed to have lost interest in the discussion. He stretched out his thumb, perilously near Ray's straining erection, and gave a wicked smile when Ray pushed up against his hand. 

Ray persisted, "If Lady Shoes were to knock on the door right now, would you answer?" 

Fraser slipped one arm around the back of Ray's hips and pulled him back down in the bed until his lips were in reach. He took his time, settling himself comfortably with almost his full weight resting on his partner's body. He smiled when Ray gasped and thrust against him, and reveled in the hot press of Ray's erection against his own hip. 

Holding his gaze, Fraser slowly leaned in for a kiss, making the moment last until he was not a centimeter away. "Not a chance." Then he kissed him. 

\--end-- 


End file.
